Mutiny
by Geoarchaeologist
Summary: Shep is punished with 36hour straight watchduty, Ford has to reorganize the arms locker TWICE, McKay is getting whumped by Caldwell's man Hobbes and Caldwell reigns as a paranoid schizophrenic who believes Shep's team is conspiring for mutiny. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: The Poker Game

**Stargate Atlantis: Mutiny**

Atlantis Parody inspired by Horatio Hornblower by C.S. Forrester. And in the big mixy bag of things, written by me: Geoarchaeologist.

**Life under Col. Caldwell is not what it seems; while he _was a_ highly revered officer in the beginning (though nobody knows how because everybody hates him), he turns out in the end to be a paranoid schizophrenic. And unfortunately, nobody has time or the means to find out _why _he's suddenly like this, because he's too busy going around believing any conversation behind his back to be a conspiracy for mutiny! Of course nobody actually IS conspiring for mutiny. So the team gets together in secret to figure out how to safely relieve Col. Caldwell from duty – which of course, Caldwell discovers and sets out to find them, believing it to be clear evidence of mutiny. So our lovable team scatters when they get word of the search. But something goes wrong! SOMEONE has pushed Col. Caldwell off one of the balconies to a watery grave! (yay!) The horrible part is that there's an inquiry: who dun it? Or will the plot even survive that far!**

CHAPTER ONE: THE POKER GAME

Mutinous

Col. Caldwell was an unforgiving man with a hardened stare. His eyes were constantly narrowed as if he were always in a wretched mood –and maybe he was! Or maybe he just looked like that. The point was, even his smile was drenched in unsightly imperiousness, matching every muscle that stretched to form that damnable emotion.

When Major Sheppard –whoops sorry – COLONEL Sheppard, was beamed aboard the Asguard-juiced ship "Dedalus" (who the heck named that thing?), his first thoughts were completely forgivable and even understandable. Of course, the thoughts were so incredibly profane that I couldn't possibly let you in on them. You'll just have to use your own imagination – but make sure it's colourful.

And who could blame the poor fellow? The poor tall, lean, muscular, sweepingly dark haired rogue-hero with the lopsided grin named Colonel Sheppard, that is. He had the most unfortunate disposition of having to serve under some of the SG's most callous jerks. I mean, remember Sumner? And then Everett? Because Sheppard remembers! It was like their life-long mission was to be as arrogantly hateful as humanly possible. But then they came to Atlantis and realized that the Wraith kind of won out in that category – owing to their lack of human-ness…So they had to die, right?

So, after the initial shock wore off, as Sheppard stared at Caldwell for a moment (in that episode, Siege part III), he calmly told himself that yes, he looks like another jerk that's going to give him a speech about chain-of-command, but honestly? He's probably going to be the first to go. That really motivated Col. Sheppard and made his day-to-day life a lot more pleasant. So, whenever he saw Caldwell around, after that whole Siege Part III thing, he smiled broadly.

Sadly, Sheppard didn't realize two things:

When he figured that Caldwell would be the first to go (out of major-ish characters for the next season), he didn't mean schizophrenia. In fact, he was really hoping for a personable experience, like a really really frightening Wraith attack. Because then he'd see what a big arrogant jerk he's been and think to himself, _Wow, these Wraith are bigger jerks than I could have ever imagined. There was no point in my petty attitude, which caused suffering to so many people. And isn't it funny that it's me that's dying while Sheppard is over there alive and well, saving everyone…wait a minute, I didn't order him to engage those darts! That's it –_

And that would really HAVE been "it"! …For Caldwell, that is.

But no. No, no, no, no. It couldn't be that easy. Schizophrenia, I'm afraid.

Sheppard also didn't realize that whenever he smiled so amiably in Caldwell's presence, it was interpreted as a deceitful ploy to cover up Sheppard's involvement in a conspiracy…a conspiracy for MUTINY!

So, because Col. John Sheppard doesn't know any of this yet, we'll have to assume that he's somewhere else minding his own business. In fact, there he is, over there, enraptured in a tense poker game with his team members, Dr. Rodney McKay, Lieutenant Aiden Ford, Teyla, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, and Dr. Carson Beckett – wow did you ever notice that 50 percent of the team are doctoral graduates! But then, I suppose that's not too fascinating; you wouldn't think they'd send stupid jerks to the Pegasus Galaxy…. except for Sumner, Everett and Caldwell. But they got what they deserve. Well, I mean, remember, Caldwell's days are numbered. Mark my words.

Oops, sorry. I blathered on right over the game, which just ended. Who won?

"Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but it looks like I take the pot, again." Sheppard grinned with a wink.

"Again? I'm not playing anymore," Rodney pushed away from the table, yawning.

"Come on Rodney, what's a little risk once and a while," Sheppard cocked a brow.

Everyone else laughed (well, I have to make them do something!)

"There's no risk in this, it's just simple probability and permutation mathematics-"

"Then you should be able to win then?" Sheppard lazily draped an arm over the back of the chair. They were seated one of the major lounge halls. The game was a much-invited relief for the countless days they had spent under pressure of the oncoming Wraith Attack. With it behind them, games and relaxation were the words of the hour.

Rodney made some indistinguishable sounds that sounded sort of like a person not wanting to admit defeat.

"Well, good game everyone," Weir stood up and stretched, "But I'm exhausted…think I'll turn in."

"Me, too," Ford yawned.

"Me, three," Beckett followed. "I have a slew of appointments first thing…"

"An appointment for what, doctor? And did I hear mention of risks?" He narrowed his eyes more than anyone should normally be capable of doing.

They all looked at each other before realizing a new voice had been added to the scene. Col. Caldwell. He was standing in the doorway, jaw tightened, eyes scrutinizing, and his uniform still on and neatly pressed. I mean it was almost midnight and his uniform looked like it had JUST come from the dry cleaners. And get this, Atlantis doesn't even HAVE a dry cleaners.

"Appointments with injured patients, Colonel," Beckett looked at him strangely, then decided to get the hell out of the room before things got weirder. Beckett really wasn't in the mood for anything strange or weird. He had seen enough of that over the previous days. Poker game and then bed, nothing strange in between, that was the plan.

"Hello, Colonel, sorry we didn't invite you to the-" Weir was suddenly interrupted.

"And what makes you think I would want to be involved in your…plots…" He twitched.

"Uhhh…" Weir looked to Sheppard, puzzled.

"You mean, our poker game?" Ford piped up.

"Don't think I am some fool, Mister Ford. _Poker? _A pathetic code word, if you ask me."

Ford's face fell.

"We're not sure what you're talking about, _sir_." Sheppard tried to hold that nice polite smile, but it was wavering, unfortunately – teetering on the brink of a hard glower.

"Don't take that tone with me, Colonel, or I'll have you arrested."

"Uh…by whom?"

"Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on here? Plots? Arrests? Is this some new SGC restructuring ploy?" McKay waved about his hand, irritated.

"I'll tell you what's going on," Caldwell issued with a deadly gleam in his eyes. He then uttered a low and deranged laugh before exiting the room with an abrupt jerk.

"Did he just forget to tell us what is going on?" Teyla raised an eyebrow, clearly disturbed by the last two minutes.

Sheppard, who had his chin resting on the palm of his hand, looked up with rapid nodding. "Yep, Yep…I think he did."

"Well," McKay seemed at a loss for words and cleared his throat to make up for it, saying, "It really ruined the intensity of the moment, too. I mean, I was really honestly scared to _hear _what it was going on."

Sheppard hummed, "I dunno, it left us in suspense, didn't it?"

Weir shook her head, bewildered, hand rubbing between her eyes.

"Well," McKay rose to his feet, the chair scraping as he did so: "I don't know about you guys? But I'm going to go to bed now to forget this ever happened!"

Sadly, it was only the beginning. Obviously. That's why Chapter 1 started with the poker game in the first place. I know, I know, it was a really pointless scene, but that whole _Caldwell bursting in and saying weird stuff _is kind of important. Unless you didn't think his wild accusations were weird. Either way, you can keep your personal thoughts to yourself – or leave them in the Reviews – and then proceed onwards to read Chapter 2…when I've finished writing it. Though at one point it will be there permanently and it will have been utterly pointless to mention it in the first place. Ah well.


	2. Chapter 2: Picking on Mister Ford

Chapter Two: Picking on Mister Ford 

The very next morning, Sheppard awoke from a restless sleep. And I'm not just saying that to boringly narrate up to action, but really, if you think about it, tell you something very important. I mean, if Sheppard had not awaken that morning, it be a completely different story! We'd have to assume he had died or was in a coma from some strange biological airborne disease…not to say that couldn't happen… But anyway, while our hero was alive and well, kicking off the covers of his bed to greet the steady golden glow of morning, we should still note that he had a _restless _sleep: Not a good sleep, or a deep sleep, or a sleep not worth mentioning – but a _restless _sleep. We can only suspect that Colonel Sheppard was worried; the events of last night had left him with a foreboding feeling.

As he dressed at top speed and hurried to the canteen, he was relieved to find his teammates at the same table having breakfast and _talking _to each other. Even Dr. Weir was there, who usually nicked something small to have with coffee in her office alone. Rodney didn't usually eat with Ford or Teyla, either, and was more apt to find himself accidentally at the table of Dr. Brown, a wiry red-haired Botanist. So, as you can well imagine, Sheppard initially thought this morning arrangement to be very odd, indeed.

When they say him approach, they stopped talking. Teyla cleared her throat and smiled at him. So, Sheppard smiled back. I don't know what the other's expressions were because Sheppard didn't really care and wasn't looking at them.

"Good morning, John," Weir looked up at him from her coffee. Her eyes were calculating and worried, as though her thoughts were maybe dwelling on the strange behaviour of Caldwell last night – or maybe not. Haven't you _noticed _that Weir is _always _looking as though she were terribly worried about something? For all we know, her unsettled expression could have been a result of the canteen being out of milk and having to use cream instead. I've been there. I'd look like that, too.

"What are you guys talking about?" John settled into the table with his own coffee and breakfast.

"NFL Football standings – what do you think we're talking about? We're talking about…" Rodney's eyes darted around before he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Caldwell."

"Oh," Sheppard tried to sound casual. "I'd actually rather talk about football."

Rodney made a face. "I can't imagine why. Now hockey-"

"Hockey?" Beckett, who Sheppard honestly hadn't noticed until then, laughed.

Rodney looked at him indignantly – and pretty shocked that the word _hockey _could ever be accompanied by ridiculed laughter.

"On the pitch with the little sticks?" Beckett shook his head, still laughing softly as he sipped at his tea.

Rodney made actual effort at turning in his chair to stare directly at Beckett, faced screwed up. "What the hell kind of hockey are you talking about, Carson?"

"Hockey," Beckett reiterated, not quite understanding what he meant. "On the field?-"

"Field hockey, Rodney, field hockey," Ford thumped a hand on the table, solving it.

"Field hockey?" He burst. "I'm talking about _real _hockey, Carson. _ICE hockey._ You know, probably the greatest sport ever invented?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes; Teyla looked on curiously (but more or less confused because she had no sports to brag about); Beckett shook his head as if he knew of something better than both American football and hockey.

Rodney was quick on the meaning behind his look. "Oh, soccer, we're going to compare soccer now?"

"Real football, gents," Beckett leaned back, drawling. "And then there's rugby – you wouldn't catch them dead in all of that protective padding like –"

"So, Doctor, I was wondering if you wanted to come along on our next mission," Sheppard interrupted with a disguise of sly purpose.

Beckett paused, blinking for a moment. "You mean the one with the giant-sized reptiles?" He paled for an instant. "Er, no thanks."

"Are we going to spend the rest of the morning discussing sports or are we going to get back to the problem at hand?" Weir said in a warning voice.

Teyla nodded in agreement. "This is the only inconspicuous location for us to discuss this together."

"What do you mean?" Sheppard drew himself up.

"Caldwell has been lurking around everywhere all morning, as if he were spying on people," Ford revealed. "I walked past his quarters this morning with a couple of P-90's that I was fixing in my spare time – you remember, the ones that wouldn't reload – to return them back to the arms locker, and he comes out accusing me of attempting to murder him in his sleep!"

"What!" Sheppard exclaimed. He wasn't quite sure what the appropriate response would have been in that situation, because his first reaction was to burst out laughing. He pictured Ford kicking down Caldwell's door to open fire a double set of P-90's at the dozing Caldwell. It shouldn't have been funny, but he sure wasn't downcast by the idea.

"Yes, that has me just a little bit concerned," Weir narrowed her eyes; glancing around to make sure they were not being eavesdropped upon. Only a lone figure sat near them at an opposite table, but with the bustle of noise, she doubted he could hear them. Plus, it wasn't Caldwell, and since it wasn't him, she didn't pay any more attention to this lone figure.

"I've asked Dr. Beckett to start organizing random physical check-ups for the crew, just to ensure that Caldwell doesn't _have _something…especially if there is a threat of a contagion."

Sheppard listened with earnest. "But, Caldwell hasn't been off world at all."

"I don't know, but something isn't right," Weir argued. "He's in his office right now checking radio calls, I passed it on the way to my own office. And then feeling a little creeped out, I came down here."

"Can he even do that?" Sheppard widened his eyes incredulously, thinking of having a word with this jerk. He barely outranked him, anyway.

"I don't know… he is the ranking military officer on board. And I'm still having trouble asserting my authority with him," Weir shook her head.

"I'll put together a number of isolated headsets to scramble our calls to each other," Rodney snapped. "Then he won't hear a thing from us."

"Do it," Weir rose to her feet. "I've got to finish that report on our victory with the Wraith attack. There's a lot to say about everyone," she walked off.

"A lot of good things about me, I hope!" Rodney called after, half-joking. But then he immediately became serious and called out again, "I have a report done actually on the valiant contributions and accomplishments made during that siege, if you'd like it, Elizabeth. It sums up the entire affair – of course, it's triple the page limit, but it's not about the quantity, you know? It's pure quality, in every page. I don't think they'd mind, seriously, of course, it is mostly about me –"

"For triple the length of the report! An average of three reports-worth of just _you?_" Sheppard's jaw dropped.

Weir shook her head. "Thanks, Rodney, but I think I'll be fine."

"I gotta get going," Ford sighed, dragging himself to his feet.

"Why? Where you going? I thought we had that Caves planet to explore?"

"I can't, Colonel," Ford frowned.

"Come on, I even called it the Caves planet, for you."

"I _can't," _he scowled. "Caldwell has ordered me to reorganize the entire Arms Locker."

"That is not right," Teyla looked to Sheppard. She hated these macho military men, having clocked Bates not too long ago.

Sheppard growled and pushed himself away from the table. "That will take the entire day. And this was because he thought you were trying to kill him with two P-90's?"

"Apparently."

"That's it," Sheppard stormed out of the canteen. He was going to set things straight with Caldwell, once and for all.


	3. Chapter 3: Sailing into Dark Waters

Woa, I just realized that Ford is supposed to be gone due to being all messed up on Wraith drugs. Let's just pretend for a moment that er…it hasn't happened yet. I'll write it into the story…somehow…damn I'm so forgetful.

CHAPTER THREE: SAILING INTO DARK WATERS

Aiden Ford, now toiling away in the Arms Locker, wasn't the only one singled out that morning. Apparently Caldwell had so far tapped into various radio conversations of crew members simply to warn them that, "conspiracy-related acts would not be tolerated." No unknown radio calls were to be passed around unless the control room knew about them. He had also yelled at various groups of officers for huddling too close together while in conversation, muttering madly that only those guilty of mutiny would need to do such a thing. When he tried such an outburst in McKay's physics lab, the scientists in question tried to explain they were doing group-work; they needed to gather around the piece of technology in question, to study its energy pathways. They weren't in the least bit afraid of Caldwell because _they _were civilians and he had no real authority over them.

But Caldwell wasn't that stupid (although, I still think he is), and he reminded himself to visit the Arms Locker after he dealt with the pesky McKay scientists. Quite frankly, people that tended not to be swayed by military rank would definitely be swayed by a pointed P-90…unless of course they were pointing it at themselves. But let's not get ridiculous; Caldwell would never do us that favour.

Caldwell was still having a difficult time in McKay's lab. In response to all of their reasoning, he barked at them: "For such lies, you're all lucky I don't place you in the brig."

This really only warranted the scientists to exchange glances, charged with incredulous raised eyebrows.

That's when McKay breezed through the doors, mumbling under his breath with his eyes trained beyond everyone in the room. Without thinking, he clapped his hands, shouting his commands for the morning, "All right you clowns, I want to see some progress on stabilizing those mock electron shield simulators by lunch or you can forget about setting foot back in this lab again. Mostly because I assure you that I could finish it _myself _within an hour; so if the five of you can't get it together, then-" McKay had stopped.

He was standing in front of his assigned researched, yes. That was normal. The look of panicky fear upon their faces was present - also perfectly normal, and in fact expected – EXCEPT for one. This one had a cruel and heartless expression; an arm folded, and was the sixth out of five.

"Colonel, what do you want?" McKay leaned against the table.

"You're number one on the watch list, Doctor," Caldwell smirked.

"What are you talking about?" Rodney pinched between his eyes wearily.

"I know what you think of the military, doctor, but I'm here to tell you that you're not going to get away with it under my command."

"Get away with _what?"_

"From now on, you do as I command – no questioning and no sneaky behind the scenes plans. Civilians are now excluded from all tactical meetings…which includes you, _Doctor._"

This wildly illogical and random change in things seemed to act as a fuse box for poor Rodney. And it had just blown up. He charged down on Caldwell as much as a person can do when they happen to be shorter than the other, and fiercely snapped, "Need I remind you that it was _me _that fixed that Ancient chair, _me that _finished that nuclear bomb, _me _that thought up and configured to cloak the city and oh, incidentally, _saved _our collective asses!"

Zalenka, off to the side, was now coughing in a meaningful pattern.

"So you wanna exclude us? Fine! But we won't help you when you need it. So you'll just have to come up with your own Save-the-World plans."

Caldwell had barely moved from his iron composure. Only a brief sneer flickered on his lips, and his eyes gleamed with intent. "Oh, I think you will cooperate, Doctor."

Rodney flinched, only praying that Caldwell wasn't about to release a giant killer spider on him.

"Sergeant Hobbes here will now be in charge of all science labs. I've given him full authority to do what is needed to see that this expedition runs according to proper code." He gestured towards the door with an abrupt jerk where a dark shadow loomed out from the doorway.

He was a largely built officer with beady black eyes and a twisted smile; and he was leaning very casually against the frame of the door. Sadly, any evilly smirking person who leans against doors with a casual air is a person you want to watch out for. The combination has never proved to be good. Think about it. What would even _possess _you to lean against a doorway with a sinister smirk? In fact, we could make it an experiment. Go to your bosses' office and casually lean in his doorway: say nothing and leer at him demonically. _You're up to something – _would probably be along the lines of what he's thinking. And so, we can safely conclude that Sergeant Hobbes has no goodly purpose, but…an evil purpose.

Naturally, Rodney was worried. Oh, and forget about the whole giant attacking spider thing…

"Something you wanted to say, doctor?" Caldwell was practically baring his teeth.

Rodney clenched his teeth and thought better of it, just for now. "Colonel Sheppard is looking for you." He turned back to the device on the table and his nervous scientists.

But Caldwell had barely heard McKay say this, because he was already on his way out the door, past Seargent Hobbes, towards the Arms Locker. Incidentally, that's where Sheppard happened to be…

"Well, well." Caldwell had said as he strode into the Arms Locker, beholding Ford in the accompaniment of Sheppard. They were taking hand grenades out of a stack of crates in the middle of the floor, their conversation muffled by being surrounded by racks and boxes. But Caldwell had an inkling as to what they were discussing.

"Colonel Sheppard, I admit I am not surprised to see you down here with the likes of Mister Ford, Hm?"

"Now you listen here," Sheppard rounded on him, stepping over a broken crate lying across the ground.

"I hear you were trying to find me and yet I find you here…not only shirking your duties but encouraging Mister Ford with further acts of conspiracy."

"Sir, I was only _bringing _those P-90's back to the Arms Locker. I fix them."

"Indeed. You fix them for murders. Mister Ford, do not make a fool out of me -" Sheppard was thinking that nobody really needed to do that… "You were standing right in front of my quarters with two fully loaded P-90's."

Ford gestured wildly. "I was passing by! I have to pass through that corridor to get there, sir."

"Amazing, just amazing," he mused. "The sort of lies one can concoct." He turned to Sheppard, who was clenching his teeth and fists and looking nearly about to shatter because of it. "And you, gathering up more weapons with Mister Ford. No doubt to continue your plots of mutiny," he snarled.

Sheppard looked to Ford. "I'm helping the poor kid re-organize this locker. I came down after I couldn't find you in any of the places _you _were supposed to be, sir. Lieutenant Ford is needed on an urgent mission later on in the day, so I thought I'd help him finish up this ridic- this task, you assigned…sir." Sheppard could barely hold his tongue, but he knew the consequences if he didn't.

"_Helping him? _Insubordination. You went over my head. You weren't asked to help Mister Ford. You're helping a mutinous rebel, which only leads me to believe one thing…now I see clearly what is going on. Indeed. Colonel Sheppard, you are going to sorely learn to keep your nose out of things. From this point forward, you are on _watch duty _for the next 36 hours straight and god help you if you're found asleep at your post; you'll find yourself with a one-way ticket back to Earth and court martial for mutiny."

Holy crackers! What just happened! Sheppard looks as though a bus just hit him and he were contemplating throwing the bus in question over a cliff! Seriously! I was just over there having tea. There was too much talking going on so I figure I'd wait until the punches rolled out, but none happened eh? Let me just scroll back here…holy crackers! Now that's a predicament if I ever did see one! Guess we'll have to wait until Chapter Four to see what happens!


	4. Chapter 4: The 36 Hour WatchDuty

Chapter Four: The Thirty-Six Hour Watch-Duty 

I know what you're thinking. And I don't think Major Sheppard would appreciate hearing it so you'd best to keep your mouth shut! He didn't _chicken out _on telling Caldwell off, believe me. In fact, while he was busy searching the command centre up and down for our villain, rehearsing over and over in his mind the violent array of words he was going to use (because that was as close as the word "violent" was going to get to anything), he happened to cross by Weir's office.

Dr. Weir was busy going over a stack of reports; some of them were scientific, some of them were about new parts of the city, and some of them were just blank pieces of paper so that she could look busy. Her computerized reports were of the same long tedious dribble, occasionally spruced up by exciting, awe-inspiring, self-important epics written by Dr. McKay (he told me to say this at gun-point; and further told me to add "gunpoint" – as we can assume he had no gun.) Luckily, computerized reports were much easier for Weir to get through because instead of blank paper, she surfed the net. Indeed at the time Sheppard stopped by her office, she was chatting on MSN; her screen name read: Wraith-Hater Girl…Live from the Pegasus Galaxy!

She caught him standing outside, scanning the area as though he had a steel bat in his hands…a steel bat that he was planning to hit someone with…Maybe even to death. Weir looked again, just to make sure he really didn't have a steel bat in his hands.

"John? You alright?" She shut her laptop.

He whirled around and entered.

"No, incidentally, I'm not. Where the hell is Caldwell?"

"I have no idea. I got the morning memo on the email, though. Did you read it?" She stifled a laugh.

"No, why? Who did he accuse in it?"

"Oh, nobody. It just said…Black, Bloody Mutiny and kind of trailed off in gibberish letters from there – like he just had a heart attack before he sent it." She paused. "He didn't have a heart attack did he?"

"No, no such luck."

"John," Weir lightly warned.

"I'm trying to find him. I want this ridiculous charade to end. Did you know he just ordered Ford to reorganize the entire Arms Locker?"

Weir sat back, aghast. "That's insane. That would take all day. And for that ridiculous accusation?"

"Yes!" Sheppard ran a hand through his dark hair, causing it to stand up even more. "I'm going to give Caldwell a piece of my mind."

Weir straightened, stepping out from her desk. She hated to be the bad guy, telling Sheppard what he could and could not do – especially when he goes ahead to do it anyway – but she had to warn him.

"John, you've got to play this safe. Colonel Caldwell has the authority and power with the SGC to kick you off of the expedition, so _don't _give him a reason. You've got to keep clear of things as much as you can."

John was furious. "Elizabeth, you should have heard what he was – "

"John, No."

"But he was –"

"No!"

He made to abruptly turn around but ended up turning on the spot. He leaned across the desk, agitated. "What do you want me to do, then?"

"I don't know. Try helping Aiden get through the work; maybe there will still be time to salvage the P38X4 mission. Until then, we wait for Dr. Beckett's findings."

Sheppard breathed through his teeth, trying to calm the fire within him. "He better hope there is something medically wrong with him or I'll –"

"John, NO."

Okay. So, there you have it. He really was going to clock that Caldwell good. Or at least give us some good verbal damage. But, Weir, as always, was the wind of caution. She didn't want to see Sheppard get sent away or receive court martial anymore than Sheppard did, and she knew well enough that the sort of military leaders sent from Earth were bastards enough to do it. So does Weir secretly fancy John Shepard? I sure as hell hope not! I mean, whom would _you _rather have as your ranking officer?

A dreamy young officer with perpetual bed-hair, has strong Ancient gene, natural pilot, funny and nice, gets along with everyone, relates to people, compassionate

Or…

An angry OLD officer, with no hair, no ancient gene, probably sucks at decisions because he's so pompous, isn't nice or funny, tries to come on to Weir in horrifying manners, doesn't relate to anyone (and doesn't want to) and is only compassionate about being a jerk.

There we have it: it's either Sheppard or some jerk. You see? She really doesn't love Sheppard at all. She loves Solitaire; and with solitaire, her life is too full for anything else.

Now, Shep and Teyla…what's that? The plot? Oh…

So, we fast-forward the story to the point where Caldwell has given Colonel Sheppard a 36-Hour Straight watch-duty. Incidentally, Ford was also told to reorganize the Arms Locker again – but in a new order.

And so it began. Sheppard angrily stormed off to the Control Room to begin his watch duty. Weir apologized to him repeatedly and kept trying to say that it would be over soon – but Caldwell didn't like this at all, and told him that he was not to be seen having conversations with the crew.

"There's no need to inspire further rebelliousness in others," he snarled. Caldwell spent the remainder of the day lurking above the balconies of the gate room, watching with an obvious smirk as Sheppard walked back and forth in tedium, patrolling. Though patrolling what, you've got me. If Caldwell thought watch-duty was important, it probably means that it really wasn't.

Sheppard counted down the hours, becoming weary from standing for so long. His evening break for food was isolated and hurried, and he was back to his post far too quickly. By the time the sky had completely darkened, Caldwell had gone off to his quarters for the night. A faint wave of relief swept over Sheppard and he leaned heavily against a wall, closing his eyes for just an instant. The warm scent of coffee fluttered up into his nose.

Wait, coffee?

Sheppard cracked open his closed eyes and stood to attention, internally afraid that it had been Caldwell. But it was Teyla…oh, and McKay. Well that seemed to ruin it.

"I thought you could be using this. We heard what happened," she handed it to him with a warm smile.

Sheppard wanted to grab Teyla at that very moment and just KISS HER. You know why? Because he goddamn well likes Teyla, not Weir! That's why!…Okay, so he was actually just thinking what a relief it was to have them in his company. He had a horrid day, after all. He even missed out on the Caves planet.

"Thanks guys, but if you're caught by Caldwell talking to me…"

"Forget about Caldwell," Teyla said. "He does not frighten me in the least. I'll talk to you if I wish – I'm not one of his officers. Though I do not wish anything more to happen to you, so I won't be long."

Sheppard glowed on the inside. But then he looked at McKay and that nice, warm, glowing feeling sort of dissipated.

"Why you with Teyla, Rodney?" He looked at him suspiciously.

"What ever do you mean? Why do you ask? I just came down here to see, uh, how you were doing."

"Right. Why's he with you, Teyla," Sheppard turned to Teyla.

"Because a sergeant by the name of Hobbes has been assigned to monitor all research labs."

Sheppard blinked. "And?"

"And? And?" Rodney sputtered as if he were being ridiculed. "And the man's a brute. A bully!"

An amusing realization hit Sheppard at that point. "Ooh, so you need Teyla to kick some ass for you."

"I am perfectly capable of handling things myself," Rodney snapped, still stuttering.

"You stutter when you say that – leaves me to believe otherwise," he humoured, with an upturn to his voice.

Teyla turned to look at Sheppard with a slight tilt so that Rodney couldn't see her raise an amused eyebrow; it was an affirming look that yes, Rodney needed Teyla to kick some proverbial ass.

"He threatened you physically?" Sheppard became serious for the moment.

"Yes! And when I confronted Caldwell he went all nutty on me. He's not going to call off his goons."

"He has goons now? Who are they?"

Teyla shifted what looked like a book under her arm and shook her head, "We do not yet know all of the names."

"Here," McKay thrust a modified headset into Sheppard's other hand. "Scrambled channels. But the headsets won't register as anything being changed," he added with a lowered voice. "We're working on a plan as we speak."

"Who's we?" Sheppard blinked.

"God, you're so thick sometimes," McKay stared at him and stalked off.

Sheppard shrugged and gulped some coffee, and then turning to Teyla said, "It was because I laughed at him."

She nodded with a smile and then remembered about the book tucked under her arm. She pulled it out and handed it to him.

"What's this?"

"You left it in the gym locker, I thought you could use it over the course of the night." It was Sheppard's book, _War and Peace._

Sheppard took it and smiled, feeling the heat in his ears. "Thanks, I could certainly use a good read…over the…course of the…long…night. It's a really challenging book…because…I like…challenges." His ears went a shade of red at that point, with awkward twisting in his stomach.

"I'm impressed. A man that appreciates literature."

The twisting increased. He was never usually alone with Teyla aside from sparring in the gym. At least sparring in the gym was more physical and consisted of less awkward chatter ---OKAY! Woa, enough-- my ears! I don't know where Sheppard was going with that line of thought but we're going to move on now. Let's see…

McKay came back!

Yes. McKay came skipping back down into the Gate Room, looking a little blanched and red as if he had been running.

"Hobbes, he's um, following me," he snapped his fingers behind him, panting. Then he caught sight of the book in Sheppard's hands. "What's this, you reading _War and Peace_?" He snatched the book out of Sheppard's hands before he could say anything, flipping through it.

"And I was just commenting on how I did not realize the colonel's passion for literature," Teyla beamed.

"Oh, yeah, he's a real...smart one, he is," McKay cleared his throat with a slight cough and slapped the book back in Sheppard's stomach. "Except, you better find out who vandalized your book."

"What?" Teyla looked at McKay, alarmed.

He looked at Sheppard. "You _do _know that someone has glued Garfield comic strips to every page of that book?"

26 more hours to go…

YOU HAVE NOW REACHED THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR. CONTINUE ON TO CHAPTER FIVE (ONCE IT'S THERE) OR CALDWELL WILL BE KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR.


	5. Chapter 5: Caldwell's Reign

Chapter 5: Caldwell's Reign

McKay was glaring at his cup of coffee. He was glaring at his coffee because he couldn't glare at Hobbes, who had taken care to make sure he was in the canteen at the exact same time as McKay – for every meal. He sat across at the other table with his thug-like friends, who were all appointed by Colonel Caldwell for the new Atlantis Reconstruction Team. The rest of them weren't that concerned with McKay, but Hobbes seemed to make it his business to get in his way at all times.

He really, really wanted to fix Hobbes with that glare. If he had mental powers beyond that of a normal human-being – which in most respects, McKay felt he did - the cup would have exploded into tiny shards…hopefully piercing Hobbes in the process. The thought alone made glaring at a cup of coffee seem worthwhile.

"Rodney, are you alright?"

McKay snapped out of his trance to find Teyla settling down into the chair in front of him.

"What? Yes? Fine." His eyes focused beyond Teyla; Hobbes was still there, smirking out of the corners of his eyes.

Teyla looked behind to verify whom McKay was staring at, saying: "Sorry I am late."

"It's fine," McKay said in a "not-really-there" voice.

"I just came from Col. Sheppard."

McKay's attention was now hers.

"He's barely holding up. He says that staying up for the length of the night was fine, but the next 24 hours…"

"Can't he just catch an hour or two in the middle of the night?" McKay rushed distractedly, not really considering Sheppard's problem. McKay had his own damn problems: Hobbes, fusion physics, and unification theory. To make matters worse, his list of three problems – a helpful little internal list he kept to structure his life – had never before contained anything outside of the realm of physics and science. Until now... It was a dark, dark day.

"Caldwell seems to have his "goons" on 24 hr monitor rotation."

"Hm," McKay gulped his coffee.

"Are you not concerned? If Col. Sheppard is unable to stay awake for the next 24 hours, Caldwell is going to return him to earth."

"Yes, yes," McKay made an irritated gesture, suddenly distracted by the oncoming of Hobbes, who was approaching McKay's table. He froze; remembering the last time Hobbes had threatened him. But Teyla nodded reassuringly to him.

Such conflict.

After last night's conversation with Sheppard, McKay was suddenly feeling trapped between a rock and a hard place. Fight his own battle with Hobbes like a man or get Teyla to fight it for him and walk away without damage to his perfect complexion? It seemed like an obvious answer, ie. A commoner's answer to things. McKay had to consider a few important facts, like how we were now living in a feminist society. With all things considering, Teyla _should_ be fighting his battles; it was only fair. Another important point to consider was that McKay was one of the most – no, scratch that – _the _most valuable member of the Atlantis expedition. Why should _he_ get his nose broken when there were other people perfectly worthless and capable of doing it for him?

Before he realized it, Hobbes had picked up McKay's handheld computer device that he had left forgotten on the table – owing that he had been staring at his cup of coffee.

McKay bolted upright in his chair. "Give that back."

Hobbes gave a blackened toothless leer that made McKay's stomach lurch. Honestly, how can you have blackened teeth AND toothlessness in this day and age of dental care? McKay was about to point this out when Hobbes spoke.

"Think I'll keep it," he snarled.

"No you won't. That has most of my research on it! Give it _back," _McKay could scarcely believe that he was now nose-to-nose with this sallow faced weirdo that he had never noticed in the city up until this whole Caldwell-thing.

Hobbes punched McKay square in the jaw, sending him backwards into the table. That's when Teyla jumped out of her seat and grabbed Hobbes by the front end of his shirt, giving him a right-hook and a good kick in the downward area. Hobbes crashed back into his goons and then on to the floor. She tore the device from his hands and pinned his neck into the floor, a fierceness darkening her face.

"End this now," She growled.

Hobbes looked like, for an instant, he was going to take her seriously, but then pushed her off. He casually got to his feet and the slimy smirk returned to his face.

"We'll see what Caldwell says," he gave them a little wink and made off.

"Let's get to Dr. Beckett," Teyla urged, helping McKay up.

Worried looks were exchanged in the canteen that morning…I felt you should know.

Back in the control room, just past noon, Col. Sheppard was still where he was; circling the deck with his hands clasped behind his back, iron-gripped jaw, and red-weary eyes. Yet no matter, he refused to yawn or show any signs of being tired in front of Caldwell, who was still skulking in the balconies with his sickening smugness. Indeed, he seemed in a better mood that day, and took to berating Sheppard any chance he got.

"Leave it to Mister Sheppard to awaken the Wraith…insolent fool…Leave it to Mr. Sheppard to screw up getting that ZMP back from those religious fanatics…Leave it to Mr. Sheppard to incur the hatred of so, so many planets and people. You know why you were the one who chose to take that jumper on a suicide mission into that Wraith ship? Hm?" He stepped up to Sheppard, matching his height.

Sheppard clenched his teeth, trying to breath slowly, eyes trained beyond Caldwell.

"Perhaps because you know that everyone here thinks you're a screw up. Leave it to Mister Sheppard to want to just run away and die like the cowardly fool he is! Yes…I'm just waiting, Mister Sheppard, to find out your plot and all who are involved; then you will be sorry. Think of this watch-duty as a warm-up."

Wow. Just. Wow. Even I wanted to beat the living flubbers out of Caldwell after that nasty bit, eh? I could just …press a few keys and kill him off, right then and there. But don't we want to see our hero prevail? Let's see what he does about this, himself.

Unfortunately, he doesn't do anything.

At that critical point, when his white knuckled fists were turning white from his resistance to throwing them at Caldwell, he glimpsed Weir up in the balconies of the control deck. She stared down at him with livid concern, knowing what Caldwell was up to.

Caldwell, squinted slightly, noticing Sheppard's upward gaze. He turned around. "Dr. Weir, you agree? This is a fitting punishment for such a mutinous officer?"

Weir tensed. "I don't see it fit for me to disagree with your orders, _sir."_

"I see, I see."

"Colonel Caldwell," she called, almost nervous, "Dr. Beckett, as you're aware, has begun a routine physical check-up for all officers the other day –"

"Yes, yes, an excellent way to isolate those on this city who are disturbed…and predisposed to engage furthermore in…mutinous activities," he glared at Sheppard.

"Er, yes, well, Dr. Beckett is wishing to see you now, sir."

Caldwell turned around again, vaguely surprised. "Me? I hardly think that – "

"Incase someone has er, done something to you, sir. Mutinous…somethings…"

Caldwell stroked his chin for a moment, considering this. "Yes, very well, I see how that could be a problem. Tell Dr. Beckett that I'm on my way."

Caldwell gave an evil glare to Sheppard before departing. Yes, you read that right. I'm quite certain the glare was evil, by all accounts. I guess you'd just have to see an evil glare to know what I'm talking about.

Sheppard slumped against the wall as soon as Caldwell was out of sight, blinking away the blurred exhaustion in his eyes. But it never went away.

_Just twelve more hours. _

"Hey, you there? Sheppard?" The whispering voice of McKay piped into his headset.

Sheppard's first instincts were to look wildly around before realizing that a scrambled call was being piped into his headset.

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Sheppard whispered back.

A pause. "Why are _you _whispering?"

"Because you're whispering."

"Well stop!"

"You stop!"

…

"We're going to meet in secret to discuss relieving Caldwell of duty, Beckett thinks he might have something," McKay continued.

"Yeah, Caldwell just left for there."

"After your watch-duty, at dusk, _poker game."_

"A poker game? Excellent."

"NO, major, it's not a real poker game, it's just a – oh for god sakes. I'll see you there."

Suddenly, Sheppard saw Darth Vader ball-rooming dancing with Weir. But upon further review, it was just some guy handing her a report. Funny how that happens.


	6. Chapter 6: The Strange Night

CHAPTER 6: THE STRANGE NIGHT 

It was nearing to midnight - in a slow, painful sort of way - at least for Col. John Sheppard, who was completing the second night of his imposed 36-hour watch-duty, courtesy of Colonel Asshole (I'm sorry for this terrible, terrible word! But strong force was needed!)Tonight he had loomed above the balconies for a much longer time, madness dancing in his eyes. He was just waiting for Sheppard to crack.

Sheppard was also waiting for something to crack: Caldwell's face – courtesy of Sheppard's fist. It was undoubtedly becoming unbearable. Sometimes Caldwell came down into the gateroom, just to walk around him, say a few berating comments, and almost invite Sheppard to take a swing at him. It was all he did, seeing as he had no evidence of an actual plot for mutiny. But, as he'd mention, according to Hobbes, they were on their tails.

When Sheppard was finally alone, after a few reassuring calls into his headset from his friends about the meeting tomorrow, he once again slumped against the wall. His eyes were in so much pain that he couldn't close them if he wanted to, and he felt sick and weak all over. Everything was becoming a fuzzy blur. He watched two grizzly bears fence for a while and then had a confusing conversation with Darth Vader. Apparently he hadn't been ballroom dancing with Weir at all and that Sheppard had imagined the whole thing. Sheppard apologized more than three times for the blatant lie but Vader refused to accept. Out of sheer frustration, he ended up having to have a light-saber duel to settle the matter. He couldn't remember who won.

Sheppard went back to slouching against the wall and picked up his book. The Garfield comics were ingenious, of course. All the ladies were deeply impressed by his love of literature…except now McKay ruined it. He decided to have a light-saber duel with McKay tomorrow at the poker game. Oh…it's not a real poker game.

Sheppard started to feel rather sad about that. He hung his head…one eye closed….the other eye. almost…sleep was on the horizon. But then –

"Colonel Sheppard," the eerie voice of Caldwell floated from behind.

Sheppard jerked his head up, clearing his throat and shifting as if he had just been staring at the floor.

"I didn't fall asleep," Sheppard blinked rapidly.

"I see," was all Caldwell said.

It was very strange for Caldwell to just say, "I see", because after all we've been through, we'd really expect more from him. I mean, Sheppard ALMOST just fell asleep on us. And Caldwell's not going to go nutty about it?

Perhaps our answer lies in the very next thing that Caldwell did. He was nuttier than the nutter he was before – he had to be – because just then he pulled from his jacket a handgun. One of those fancy ones you'd get from the Arms Locker. We can assume he had been down there today to pick on Mister Ford again. _What _a jerk. No wonder Ford went mentally insane and ran away from Atlantis. It wasn't Wraith drugs, are you kidding me? It was just the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Caldwell.

So, Caldwell is holding this gun out to Sheppard. At first, Sheppard just stared at him, wondering if he was going to shoot him…so he readied himself with his light-saber, so as to deflect the bullet…of course, it took a second to realize he didn't actually have a light-saber.

"Do what you desire. And kill me," Caldwell thrust the gun into Sheppard's hands.

Sheppard considered it for a moment...I mean…he _did ask. _And what if someone hands you a gun and really politely asks you to just shoot them? First of all, it takes courage to do that in the first place, and second, if they asked really politely, wouldn't it be _rude _to deny it to them? Like what if you were really concerned about formalities and politeness and all that. If you refused, you'd just be known as "that rude jerk that wouldn't pull the trigger."

"No," Sheppard pushed the gun back on him. "I won't. I'm not a murderer."

A red blur raced down the gateroom steps.

"John!" Weir raced up to them.

"I could hear on the headset…Colonel Caldwell, let's go. We're going to the infirmary."

"Yes, yes."

And they left.

Though the past few days had been odd…that pretty much surpassed them.

The next morning, Caldwell was back in the control centre with his usual smug self. It was as if last night hadn't had happened. Sheppard struggled to stay on awake, counting down the hours. When they were finally up, he resisted the urge to race around the room in glee and made way for his quarters. To sleep. Obviously. But he was stopped on the way.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Teyla raced up to him in the corridor.

Sheppard tensed automatically. "What's going on Teyla?"

"I heard you were in need of assistance," she said out of breath.

He blinked away the blurred lines in his eyes for a second. Who would tell him _that? _He glanced at the doors of his quarters and back to Teyla.

"Well, sure, I could go for some of this assistance – my place or yours?"

A strange look came over her face and her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Er…"

"You mean, there is not an emergency that your presence is required for?"

"Just sleep?"

Teyla paused in deep thought, ignoring all of Sheppard's "suggestions". Then she snapped to attention, in dark realization: "I was tricked. I've left Dr. McKay alone – Hobbes will be after him."

Sheppard instantly forgot about sleep and raced down the hall with Teyla by his side.

Oh, wow, speaking of sleep, I am sooo tired. Let say we pause this story so I can go get some shut eye. I've been writing chapters all day. (The other story I'm writing under my name). I think I'll leave you in suspense. Night chaps.


	7. Chapter 7: Mutiny

CHAPTER 7: MUTINY 

When Sheppard and Teyla bounded into McKay's lab, he wasn't in the least surprised to see Hobbes beating the living snuffing out of McKay. Electronic thingies and other thingamabobs were crashing into each other and onto the floor as they flung each other around the room in hand-to-hand combat: McKay was fighting! Really. That's mostly what surprised Sheppard. In fact, he was rather inclined to just lean in the doorway (_not _with an evil smirk, there's a different you know!) and watch McKay go at it.

"Not so tough without your annoying little alien friend, are we?"

"She's Sheppard's friend!" McKay yelped, ducking a punch.

"Wha?" Hobbes threw him into a few chairs.

"Sheppard's friend! In fact, I think they're dating! Or they want to date –they've at least thought of sleeping together!"

"And?" Hobbes asked gruffly, giving McKay a good black eye.

"So, so, come on, think on it! _He's _the one with Teyla all the time! Not me! Why would you pick a fight with me? It's Sheppard you want! Sheppard!"

"Cuz I don't like you," Another kick and a punch.

Sheppard turned to look at Teyla. "You know, maybe we walked in at the wrong time. Had I not heard any of that, I would have considered helping him? But now…"

"Colonel Sheppard," Teyla said in a reprimanding sort of voice, shaking her head.

"What? What you like him? That's it, isn't it? You like, McKay! How could I have been so stupid?"

"John," Teyla cut in fiercely, "There is nothing going on between McKay and myself, do not worry yourself about it. What provoked you to say such a thing?" She eyed him suspiciously. A number of loud crashes and yelps continued on in the background.

"This whole Sergeant Hobbes thing has just been one giant excuse for you to spend more time with him," Sheppard angrily gestured.

"Er…I really believe Hobbes intends to pummel McKay quite seriously," Teyla cleared her throat, casting glances at McKay, who was now rolling along the ground with Hobbes. He managed a few strikes in the face.

"Well _I _don't believe it," Sheppard shouted.

Teyla raised an eyebrow and pointed beyond Sheppard to the fight scene. Turning around sharply, Sheppard faintly began to remember where he was. Clearing his throat, he looked back.

"Oh…Oh right," was all he said.

"You are exhausted," Teyla observed pointlessly. I mean the man's been awake for over 36 hours now, what did she think he was? A Cylon?…omg, what if Sheppard IS a Cylon. We all know from Battlestar Galactica that Cylons can stay away super-super long without showing any real signs of tiredness –

"You guys been standing there all this time? Help me!" McKay shrieked.

"I'm fine. McKay, don't worry! I'm tossing you my lightsaber! Take him out!" Sheppard tossed McKay a pencil and stood back, arms folded.

"What the hell is this! Are you high!" The pencil bounced off his forehead, leaving a rather nasty imprint.

Luckily, Teyla had the sense to jump into the fight and pull Hobbes off of McKay. It only took her a moment to knock him out and pin him to the ground. McKay struggled back to his feet, dusting himself off (as if it actually mattered) and went right over to the trapped Hobbes and gave a good, swift kick to his ribs.

Teyla snapped him with a stare. "I did not pin him to the ground so you could do that, Dr. McKay."

"Well," he started, out of breathe, "Either way."

At that precise moment, when the scuffle had ended, Dr. Weir contacted them over a scrambled channel on their headsets. It was one of those strange occurrences that seem only to happen in science fiction, where coincidences save the day. Actually, it just makes writing the scene coherent, you know? Imagine trying to pipe Dr. Weir's message into their headsets while they're all busy fighting. The whole while, Sheppard would probably have just thought he was hearing things again (funny how he doesn't think he's hearing things when Darth Vader is talking to him, though), and Weir would have thought McKay was calling her profane names while beating himself up. Everyone would have just been weirded out, to say the least.

"We've got to get to the meeting now, Dr. Beckett has something and we haven't much time: Caldwell is ordering your team to engage the Wraith at P4X977 – "

"That's a suicide mission!" McKay gasped. "Just a bunch of hive ships in orbit."

"Jumper Bay, now!"

So they all run there and yada yada yada – use your own damn imagination!

They all assembled in a secluded corner of the Jumper Bay to discuss the matter and everyone was there, including a disgruntled Ford and Dr. Beckett.

"I ran into a problem," Beckett winced at once, as they huddled.

Weir's face fell. "What? I thought you said you discovered from brain scans that he was schizophrenic!"

"Aha, I knew it!" Sheppard snapped.

"No you didn't," McKay rolled his eyes, nursing an icepack on his eye. He was still clearly upset for Sheppard's lack of assistance during the whole Hobbes thing.

"Don't be so angry with _me," _Sheppard insisted coldly, "I did throw you my only lightsaber. It's not my fault you can't defend yourself."

McKay didn't even know how to respond to that.

"Er, anyway, yes the brain scans did reveal this…problem is…someone stole the images. I've got no proof now. They were replaced with cartoon drawings of a brain. I suppose they were quite funny but…" He cleared his throat.

"Great," Weir muttered. "We've got to get them back. I bet Caldwell has them. We need to get to his office."

Just then, Sheppard gasped. And initially everyone ignored him. Sheppard was brinking on mental instability himself owing to over exhaustion. But he interrupted them with his thoughts.

"I just received word – Caldwell up in the control room has discovered that there have been scrambled calls going on in the past hour…and they've discovered Hobbes…he's sent a search party, and they're coming after us! He's going to make us all walk the plank!"

"What?"

"I know! I didn't even know we _had _a plank!"

"We don't," McKay stared.

"John, where are you hearing this?" Weir looked around at the group, feeling rather spooked.

"Yeah, man, we're all here." Ford cleared his throat.

"Whom are you talking to?" Beckett felt that this was the most important question.

"Darth Vader – now, I know, but hear me out. He's been spending some time in the control room, just seeing how things are run, and he overheard the whole thing with Caldwell."

"Ma'am," a look out scout raced up to them, panting and out of breath. "I was just assigned to one of the search teams that are after you and Sheppard's team – you better get out of here and scatter!"

Okay, so what do you reckon Weir and them were more worried about? The fact that Caldwell was literally coming after them now, or that Sheppard was right about the entire thing and that he got his information from Darth Vader.

They opted to just stare at Sheppard instead, just for an instant.

But Sheppard jumped to his feet, pulling Weir and Teyla along with him. "We gotta go, then! I'm not walking that plank!"

"We don't _have _a plank!" McKay groaned again as they raced out of the jumper bay.

The team scattered. Caldwell wouldn't get his fiendish hands on them now!

I don't really know where everyone went because I can only follow one character at a time. But during the moments that the team scattered, something happened. Col. Caldwell stalked out onto the main balcony of the control room to catch a breath of deep ocean air before awaiting news on the capture of Sheppard's team, the mutinous traitors that were as he stood there, plotting to overthrow him. Oh, he knew, he took those fake brain scans and chucked them out in his office. Nobody would know. He would reign, and Sheppard and his stupid team would walk the plank!

Except, there was one small flaw in Caldwell's evil plan: He got pushed over the balcony into the crashing ocean below.

Who did it?

**Now, ladies and gents, what character would you like to follow for the conclusion?**


	8. Chapter 8: And now, the conclusion

CHAPTER 8: AND NOW…THE CONCLUSION

Colonel Caldwell, the bald insufferable schizophrenic that was the ranking military officer on Atlantis, was now dead. Someone had a good shove and pushed him right over the balcony. On the way down, if you stood to listen (though, no offense, that be a pretty disturbing thing to do) you could hear him yell: "Black, Bloody Mutiny" on the way down. Even to his death, his only concern was mutiny. Someone could have called him obsessed! But er, I think schizophrenic pretty much covers it. No need to start adding other disorders, though I'm sure he was Obsessive-Compulsive and maybe even depressed. But seriously? The lesson learned here today was that you should never try to solve your mental problems by accusing everyone around you of mutiny. It just doesn't work.

Our lovable heroes, Dr. Weir and Col. Sheppard and his team, were running scattered through the city when the message was relayed over the city's intercom:

"Medical Emergency in Control Room! All teams halt search, return to normal."

It was a little strange for the team. They had just started the exciting chase and it had all been called off, for some medical emergency. Caldwell wouldn't have done that for anyone's life. He'd accuse his gran of mutiny if he had the chance.

Sheppard was sneaking about some empty corridors when the message was sent over the city. I don't know where he's been, really, because I blinked when it all happened. I also left for a cup of tea. I'm sorry. Now we don't even know if Col. Sheppard is innocent of the mutinous murder.

But at least we know it wasn't Ford. When they had scattered, Ford did what any sane mentally unstable man would do – he jumped in a jumper and took off through the gate. I suppose he could have push Caldwell before he left in the jumper, but that's a little too speedy for our timeframe.

Really, it could have been anybody. It could have been you for all I know! …Except you're not in the story, good point. I suppose it could have been me, but I think I'm innocent in the matter – I was getting a cup of tea!

The team rushed back to the control room, curious as to what transpired. They all gathered in the balcony, a hushed silence falling on them as they realized what had occurred: Caldwell had been tossed over the railing.

Beckett was the first to speak: "I don't understand. Why did you call a medical team down here, son?" Beckett turned to stare at the lowly Lieutenant with no name or purpose, who had made the call. "He's dead. He fell god knows how many feet into the ocean. What do you want me to do? Yell to see if he's okay?"

"Except you can't, he's dead," Sheppard said, nodding, as if Beckett didn't know this fact.

Beckett sighed and put his things away.

Weir was giving Sheppard a scrutinizing eye.

"Where were you when this happened, Colonel?"

"Where were you?" He turned on her.

"I seriously doubt it was Sheppard," McKay rolled his eyes, "He couldn't even stop Hobbes from…" He cleared his throat and proceeded to stare at the sky.

"From what?" Weir turned to McKay, now.

"From beating the crap outta him," Sheppard nodded as if this were funny.

"Okay, no, this is serious," Weir laid out her hands. "We have to account for his death. If one of us did this…regardless of who Caldwell was, this is a serious offense. This is murder."

"Maybe he just thought he was pushed over the edge," Sheppard shrugged casually, yawning. He was beginning to feel numb.

"What?" Beckett and Weir sounded at the same time.

"You know, how he was so paranoid about one of us conspiring to commit mutiny, that he got paranoid about someone pushing him over the edge, too. Maybe it was the thought that killed him!"

"Colonel, forgive me, but that doesn't make any bloody sense."

"It's a theory, a theoretical theory based on science."

"There was no science behind any of that gibberish!" McKay was looking rather disgruntled underneath his black eyes.

"Well, I think he just pushed himself over. Anyway, come on, group hug." Sheppard gathered his teammates in for a warming, heart-felt hug. "If it makes you all feel better, we can just say a Wraith did it."

It was a pretty awkward moment.

"Hey, where's Ford?" Sheppard suddenly pulled back, his eyes slurred and half-closed.

"He took off through the Gate…" Weir looked down to the ground.

"Turns out he was addicted to Wraith enzyme drugs, from when he was joined in that attack – we never knew, until I enforced those routine physicals and I noticed the disappearance of our stores of the enzyme."

"He has gone to find more of it," Teyla added darkly.

Sheppard laughed heartily. "That crazy Ford, what ever will he think of next."

Those were the last words of Colonel John Sheppard before he fainted away in a heap on the ground.

They never did find out who the murderer was…

McKay insisted he would have never worked up the courage to do that sort of thing – "Remember what happened with _Hobbes?"_

Teyla glared at the very accusation. It wasn't a very honourable thing to do. I dunno, I doubt it was Teyla. Not the type, eh?

Dr. Weir denied it as well; she was near the medical lab when it had happened. I'd be surprised, though – after all those rants about responsibility and humanity and she goes to push a man off a balcony? Hmmm.

Dr. Beckett is one who saves life, not takes it away! That's his defense. Besides, people can vouch for his whereabouts in the Infirmary.

Ford is gone. But it might have been him..hmmm…

And Sheppard…well Sheppard actually couldn't remember (when he later woke up) where he had been and what he had been doing. Crewmen had later reported that he had found himself in the canteen with a keg of Athosian beer.

I think it was Dr. Heightmeyer, that dodgy fuitbasket!

In conclusion, Caldwell got what he deserved. And Sheppard now has hallucinatory visions of Darth Vader to this day.

The End.


End file.
